The Chemical Wedding
by BlueNeutrino
Summary: In the seventeenth century, "The Chymical Wedding of Rosenkreutz" was published: an account of a supernatural union between Heaven and Earth. Four hundred years later, with the Winchesters in possession of the tablets that could close Heaven and Hell for good, both angels and demons are hunting down the last member of the Rosenkreutz bloodline who could stop them from succeeding.
1. Prologue

_**The Chemical Wedding**_

**Summary: Cristina Rosenkreuz thought she was just an average, unextraordinary girl from Massachusetts; that is, she did until a messenger from Heaven showed up at her apartment with some life changing news. Soon, Cristina finds herself caught up with two hunters and a fallen angel as they're on the run from the forces of Heaven and Hell alike, racing against time to gatecrash the wedding that could bring about the end of humanity. **

**Note for reader: If you want Sam, Dean and Cas, you can skip the prologue, although reading it will help you understand things later in the story. Cas appears at the end of chapter one, and Sam and Dean appear in chapter two.**

**A/N: Somebody really needs to tie my muse to a tree and gag her so she can stop giving me new fanfic ideas and running away with them before I've finished the dozen ones I already have on the go. So, apologies that this is yet another new story and not an update on my existing ones. Sunday is also my two year anniversary of being on this site, so I have a goal of reaching a total of 350K words before then. As of commencing this chapter, I have approximately 4000 words to go.**

**This story is really loosely based off of an esoteric text from the seventeenth century called "The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz" and some of the works of the Elizabethan alchemist Dr John Dee, who was the first person to write down records in Enochian. Since the writers of Supernatural have been playing round with Biblical mythology since season four, I thought this was something that fits right in with that. Timeline-wise, this is sort of vaguely later season-eight but with Cas' storyline with the angels taking a different direction, or it could be a sort of season nine. There's also gonna be Destiel in later chapters, assuming that isn't canon already by the in-universe time I imagine this story happening.**

**Also note, Strasbourg in 1464 was a German city, not French (although Germany as we know it today didn't exist yet).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, and I don't own any of the plot points that originally came from the texts previously mentioned.**

_**Prologue **_

_Strasbourg, Germany  
1464_

A quill dipped into ink for the final time, before being set to a page to finish the last words that were to be recorded in the leather-bound book. It scratched out a few characters in elaborate, flowing script, before being set aside to rest by a tallow candle that was almost burned out. It was fortunate that the scribe had completed his work before its light finally died.

A brief moment passed in which the ink was allowed to dry, before the volume was closed swiftly and a leather cord knotted around it to fasten it shut. The cover was plain leather - the expense of having it etched or stamped had been too much for the owner to afford – but having a bound notebook at all showed that the contents were clearly important enough to be recorded on a more robust medium than loose-leaf paper.

Rising from the chair by his desk, the writer picked up the book and crossed the small room to the narrow bed situated against one wall. He knelt down beside it, and brushed away a few of the reeds covering the floor to reveal the wooden boards underneath. The room he was renting was on the second floor, and the sounds of laughter and revelry drifted up from the room below, but they were faint enough to be ignored. The man was grateful for that. Although he had now completed his work, he still would not respond favourably to being disturbed.

Reaching into the space under the bed, the man hooked his fingers into an uneven crevice in the floorboards and pulled upwards, dislodging the plank of wood from its place. A hand descended into the space beneath and a moment later reappeared, clutching a wooden box. The man pulled it towards him before producing a key that had been suspended from a length of twine that hung around his neck, hidden beneath his shirt. He opened the box and placed the book inside – there was no delicate velvet lining or silk cloth to wrap it in, but merely having the book encased in a block of oak provided some extra level of security.

Locking the box once again, he placed it back in the hollow space beneath the bed, his fingers tangling with cobwebs as he lowered it in. It was only a temporary hiding place, but until he moved on to another town once again, then this was the safest place to keep the book hidden. Replacing the floorboards and the reeds, the man then backed away from the bed and straightened up, feeling a sense of satisfaction that his work was now complete. For five years he had worked on creating an accurate and faithful account of what had happened to him that Easter in 1459, and now that important task in his life was done.

His sense of contentment, however, was short lived, as he heard a cold voice speak from behind him. "Herr Rosenkreutz, I presume?"

A chill ran down his spine. He was certain there had been no sound of footsteps in the corridor outside, nor of the door opening. Indeed, it had been locked. That could only mean that whoever this visitor was, he had arrived by unnatural means.

Rosenkreutz turned round slowly, his eyes falling on the form of a man of around forty years of age, dressed in a brown overcoat and riding boots. The newcomer had brown hair with a short, greying beard, and his hard grey eyes had fixed on the younger man before him with a disturbing intensity. Rosenkreutz swallowed, before responding as confidently as he could manage. "I am afraid you are mistaken, sir, I am not he. May I inquire as to who you may be, and how you gained access to my room?"

The man only smirked at the implied challenge in Rosenkreutz' words. "No, there is no mistake. You are indeed the gentleman I am looking for, and you have something I wish to acquire. I think you know to what I refer."

Rosenkreutz licked his dry lips, trying to hide his fear and regretting deeply that he should be discovered now, when at last his work was done. "I am afraid your meaning escapes me. I do not know…"

He had neither the time nor the courage to finish that sentence, as the grey eyed stranger stepped forward threateningly, blinking his eyes. As he opened them again, Rosenkreutz saw to his horror that the pupils and irises had turned to white. He tried to back away, but with the backs of his knees against the bed, he could only stand and watch as the stranger approached.

"Do not insult me," the white eyed man snarled, leaning in closer and baring his teeth. "I know that you are in possession of knowledge imparted to you by angels, and that in these past years you have worked to create written records of all you know. Now I wish for you to tell me where these records are."

Although he was trembling, Rosenkreutz stared at the man – nay, _demon _– defiantly. "I will not…"

The demon merely looked irritated, and raised his right hand before clenching a fist. The motion stopped Rosenkreutz mid-sentence, as he suddenly found he was unable to speak, or even breathe. "And if you refuse, I will ask you to speak this knowledge to me first hand. Then I will inscribe a record of it for myself, in your blood."

He then waved his fist, and by some unnatural force, Rosenkreutz felt himself be pulled upwards and flung bodily across the room, before colliding with the stone wall and falling roughly to the floor. As he impacted with the floorboards, the already dying candle went out. Now he was alone in the darkness with an agent of Hell.

Bruised and sore, he slowly picked himself up. He was scared, but could draw a small degree of comfort from the fact that the demon clearly did not know where the book was. The secrets contained in its pages must remain hidden. That was all that mattered. Rosenkreutz was quickly beginning to fear that his life would be the price of keeping those secrets, but in Heaven's grand plan, that was of little consequence.

"So, I will ask this only once again," the demon said, advancing towards the younger man and raising his hand, which caused Rosenkreutz to be forced backwards and pinned against the wall. "Where is it?"

He was met with only a silent glare of defiance.

"Very well," the demon said, slowly cocking his head. He made no further movement, but Rosenkreutz began to feel a prickling sensation behind his eyes. Something began to burn in the back of his throat, a weight pressed down on his chest. At first it was merely uncomfortable, but as the feelings intensified he cried out in pain, tasting blood in his mouth.

"Where is the book?" the demon demanded, but a moment later Rosenkreutz saw through pained and bloodshot eyes a sight he had not seen for years. An intense white light began to fill the room, flooding in from some unknown source but expanding to fill every inch of space. Rosenkreutz knew enough to look away and close his eyes before it reached its full intensity.

The demonic force assaulting him suddenly ceased, and Rosenkreutz crumpled to the floor. There was the sound of something crashing and breaking around him, as whatever had just arrived in the room attacked the demon. Once the light had dimmed, Rozenkreutz dared try to crack open his eyelids again. Through half-open eyes he saw the dark shapes of wings flickering in the shadows. An angel had come.

"You will not find it, Mammon," a female voice declared, as the demon rose to his feet from where he'd been flung into the fireplace. Rosenkreutz was still too dazed to see clearly, but he was able to make out as slender, blonde haired form in a pale blue dress facing off against the white-eyed man. In her hand she gripped a long silver blade, that Rosenkreutz was able to remember and recognise from his experiences five years ago: an angel blade.

The demon laughed. "Maybe, Lydia, but I have freed many demons from Hell to search for it. You are the only angel to walk on Earth in over a thousand years. Do you think you can stop us all?"

She lunged for him with the blade, but not before he'd brought up his right hand in a slashing motion through the air. The act had not been intended to harm her, but instead, with a sudden shock, Rosenkreutz felt something smooth and cold slice across his neck. Pain burned into his throat and something wet spilled out over his skin. Air ceased to flow into his lungs, and with a faint gurgle, his body quickly became still and his eyes unseeing.

The angel roared in anger, trying to finish her attack as she realised what the demon had done. However, he evaded the strike, throwing himself sideways to fall through the room's only window. The body began to fall towards the ground, but as it did so, the man's mouth opened and black smoke began to stream urgently out. The white eyes darkened once again into grey, but remained dull and glassy as the body hit the floor.

Lydia stood by the window looking down at the corpse, preparing to spread her wings to give chase. However, the smoke had already dissipated, vanishing beneath the dark cloak of night. There would be no hope of catching him, and so she turned her attention back to the room and to the body of Christian Rosenkreutz, lying cold on the floor by the desk. It wasn't within her powers to resurrect him, although there were others in Heaven who could have, but she knew that wasn't necessary. His work was now done and his memoirs completed, and he would be rewarded in Heaven.

The angel crossed over to the bed, staring down as if looking straight through it to where the book was hidden. She knew she could move it and find some other hiding place, but that was exactly what Mammon would expect if he thought the book had indeed been here to start with. Second-guessing was a game she knew how to play. Instead, she merely lifted her left hand to stretch out her fingers in the space above the bed. A light glowed briefly from her palm and then was extinguished, but Enochian cloaking symbols had now been carved into the underside of the floorboards where the book was hidden. That would be the only security measure necessary.

Well, that and to take the key from around Rosenkreutz' neck. That item, unlike the book, was one that it would be possible to hide in Heaven.

Moments later, she disappeared with a flutter of wings, leaving behind no trace as the people downstairs quickly came to find the cause of the disturbance. The box was never unearthed by demons. It remained hidden between the first and second floors of the inn, gathering dust and cobwebs, until at last it was discovered, over a century later, by a young theologian with the name Johannes Valentinus Andreae.


	2. The Messenger

**A/N: Yes, there's a rather obvious reference to the movie **_**Dogma **_**in this chapter. Points if you recognise it.**

_**Chapter One – The Messenger**_

_Boston, USA  
March 2014_

A few rays of daylight lingered as the woman walked home through the streets of Boston, before she reached the entrance to her apartment block and headed inside to the elevator. By the time she'd reached the seventh floor, the dusky pink glow in the sky had faded to a dull blue-gray as night descended on the city, and the woman could see the light fading through the windows in the hallway as she approached her apartment door. Unlocking it, she let herself into the living room and threw her bag down by the couch to join the array of clutter scattered across the floor, before heading into the kitchen. A note addressed to "Cristina" was stuck to the fridge, informing her that her roommate wouldn't be home that night as she was staying at her boyfriend's, and Cristina just shrugged as she removed it from the fridge door and threw it in the trash. Sometimes alone time suited her, and she really didn't mind having the apartment to herself for the night.

Continuing with her seemingly perfectly normal evening, she made herself a coffee which she drank at the kitchen table, enjoying her opportunity to relax now that it was Friday and she didn't have too much college work over the weekend. Once empty, the coffee mug was dumped in the sink before Cristina went to take a shower. After she was done, she dried herself off and pulled on a pair of girl boxers and an oversized Nightwish t-shirt – a band she didn't even particularly like anymore, but since she only ever wore the shirt for sleeping in or lounging around, it didn't bother her. Had she been able to anticipate what would soon happen, she likely would have chosen to wear something else. Her shoulder length dark hair was still damp, so she wrapped it in a towel before heading back into the kitchen, noticing as she did so that some brown was beginning to show through at the roots of her bright blue bangs. She reminded herself that she'd have to get that touched up at some point.

Once in the kitchen, Cristina grabbed a packet meal out of the freezer and unceremoniously stabbed the plastic packaging with a fork before flinging it into the microwave, then went back into the living room while waiting for it to cook. Deciding to take advantage of the fact she had the apartment to herself, she crossed the room to where a Hi-Fi system was located on top of a chest of drawers and pulled out the cables connecting her roommate's iPod to the speakers, before choosing one of her own CDs to slip into the stereo. She picked out Arch Enemy's _Doomsday Machine, _being in the mood for it, and it wasn't often she could play that kind of music loudly in the apartment without her roommate complaining. Not that Cristina knew it, but the choice of music would prove to be fittingly ironic.

The food was still cooking, so she amped up the volume and skipped to track four. As the guitars picked up on the intro to _My Apocalypse, _she allowed herself a moment of crazy dancing that was somewhere between headbanging and raving, enjoying the chance to just do what she liked as she pulled the towel off her head to let her hair dry out as she tossed it round, streaks of blue whipping through the air. It was a move she would have been way too embarrassed to do anywhere in public, even – or especially – in a mosh pit, but that was just one more reason she was pleased to be on her own tonight. The chance to indulge herself like this wasn't something she got often.

In the back of her mind, she was listening for the faint sound of the microwave pinging to let her know her food was ready, but oddly enough some other sound was managing to push its way to the forefront of her attention, a sound she really hadn't expected to hear. It sounded like… bugling? Okay, now she'd listened to this song countless times before, and she was fairly certain that bugles were _not _part of it.

Crossing back over to the stereo, she switched it off so as to better listen. Yes, there was definitely the sound of something like trumpets coming from somewhere. It was relatively faint, and she wondered how she'd even heard if over the sound of the music, but it was gradually getting louder and, frustratingly, she couldn't even work out where it was coming from. Cristina cautiously took a few steps back across the room, looking about in confusion, but even as the sound crescendoed she still couldn't figure out its source.

Then suddenly, without warning, the ground beneath her began to shake. She cried out in panic, wondering what the hell was happening and if this was an earthquake, but then the music suddenly intensified and a bright white light filled the room. Its brilliance was blinding and Cristina screwed her eyes shut, by now completely bewildered and more than a little freaked out, but after a moment the light dimmed through her eyelids and the rumbling stopped. Daring to look again, she blinked her eyes back open. The sight that met her took her completely by surprise.

A young man was standing there, with short brown hair and wearing a sky blue suit, who was for some reason blowing enthusiastically on a trumpet. For a few seconds she just stared in shock, then her senses caught up with her and she murmured, "What the hell?" before quickly trying to back away. However, she ended up stumbling on one of the many things she'd left lying on the floor and fell backwards onto the couch.

A panicked squeak escaped her and she quickly found herself babbling, "Okay, whoever you are, please don't hurt me."

The man, however, just finished his trumpeting and then tucked the instrument beneath his arm with a flourish, as if completing some grand performance. He seemed oblivious to the fact she'd even spoken. "Fear not," he instead said formally, "For I am an Angel of the Lord come bearing great news."

It took several seconds for that to sink in, but when it did Cristina just found herself staring at him and unable to say anything more coherent than, "What?"

"My name is Simael and I am here to tell you of a wedding that is soon to be in Heaven, at which you are chosen to be the Bride. The time is now for you to come with me and join the bridal party."

The speech sounded incredibly well rehearsed, but also somewhat ridiculous and didn't make one iota of sense to Cristina.

"What are you even…how did you…who…?" A dozen questions were tumbling incoherently out of her lips as she struggled to get her thoughts in order, but then her disbelief overpowered her confusion and one rational thought managed to form. "Hang on, did Erica put you up to this?" It would be just like her roommate to play this kind of trick on her. "I mean, this is a joke, right? She's not really staying over at Tom's and I'm being punk'd or something?"

She was looking up at him with a mixture of hopefulness and scepticism, but he just returned the look with a puzzled frown. "No, I am an angel, and you are the descendent of Christian Rosenkreutz, to whom the prophecy of your marriage was imparted many centuries ago. I was sent to bring you the news and to carry you to Heaven where the wedding preparations are being made."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Uh huh. Well, sorry if I'm having trouble believing you, man. Those were some nifty special effects you did just then, but this is my apartment, and you can get out now." As she increasingly managed to convince herself this was just a prank, her sense of panic abated, but there was still a nervous flutter in her stomach that wouldn't settle.

He made no move as if to leave, but continued to frown at her. "You do not believe I am what I claim?"

She shook her head. "I don't really buy into the whole angels thing, man. You're gonna have to find some religious nut to fall for that. Kudos on the effort, though."

She thought she had him figured out and was doing a good job of playing it cool, but his puzzled frown turned into a scowl of annoyance. "Oh ye of little faith," he muttered sarcastically. "There was a time when angels appeared to man, people showed a little more respect."

His tone had turned much colder, and as he finished speaking the lights in the apartment flickered. There came the sound of far off rumbling like thunder, and as the light flashed on and off Cristina saw behind him the shapes of vast wings silhouetted against the wall. His eyes glowed bright white for a moment, and she gave a yelp, pushing herself further back into the couch. The rational part of her mind was still insisting that this had to be a trick, but her survival instinct was screaming that she better believe it.

"Okay, okay, I believe you!" she suddenly shouted, and the rumbling came to a stop as the lighting levels returned to normal. The wings, however, remained; the shadowy shapes having solidified into white feathered forms protruding from his back. Her mouth dropped opened as she stared up at him, definitely somewhat scared by now, and very _very _confused. "So, what, you're like Gabriel or something?" she asked cautiously.

"No, as I have already told you, my name is Simael," he answered, seeming as if he was growing increasingly exasperated with her.

Giddy with disbelief and panic, she gave a slight giggle. "Man, I can't believe this. I get an angel showing up at my apartment and it isn't even Alan Rickman."

That only caused his frown to deepen even further. "No. I have twice stated now that my name is Simael."

She stared up at him, noticing he hadn't understood the reference at all and wondered if she should explain it to him, but decided that really wasn't the important issue at hand. "No…right…I mean, what do you even want? Why are you here?"

The look on his face showed his patience was wearing thin, but he was going to have to be patient with her if he had any hopes of getting her to understand. "I am here to bring you news of the wedding," he said slowly, repeating what he'd told her earlier, "At which you are to be the Bride."

She continued to give him a confused stare. "What? You're saying I'm supposed to get married? But why me? And to who? I don't even have a boyfriend."

"You are the descendent of Christian Rosenkreutz," the angel repeated again, clearly thinking he was addressing an idiot by now. Normally she'd object to being patronized, but this really was something she needed explaining slowly. "Who was taken to Heaven many centuries ago to prepare for the wedding that would one day come, and now that day is almost upon us. I am to take you to Heaven to make the final preparations…"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold up," Cristina suddenly said with a wave of her hands to silence him. This was all too much for her to process. "I'm not getting married to someone just on your say so," she protested, "and I'm not dead yet. Me going to Heaven with you is not gonna happen."

He fixed her with a disapproving glare. "It is not your choice. It is destiny. This was prophesied many hundreds of years ago."

She stared at him aghast. "Well, tough. Don't I get any say in this?"

"This is not about your will, but God's," he answered her calmly. "You must fulfil your role in his plan, and you will be rewarded."

Cristina cast her gaze frantically about her, as if searching for an escape route. On the one hand, she was scared of what would happen to her if she refused to do what he said, but on the other hand, the thought of going through with what he was demanding terrified her even more. "Well, he's not the one having to get married here. I don't want to do this."

His eyes flashed dangerously and she shrank back into the couch, not seeing any easy way out of this. She had to be dreaming, right? There was no way this was real. Please don't let this be real.

"Come with me," the angel commanded, holding out his hand to her. She didn't take it, but she had no idea how she was supposed to keep refusing.

Noticing her lack of co-operation, he began to reach out to her as if to grasp her arm and take her with him by force. She was just preparing to jump up from the couch and run, no matter how futile that may be, but was spared by a hand appearing from somewhere over the angel's shoulder and grasping his upper arm to stop him.

Simael's face showed visible surprise, and he turned to look back at the newcomer. As his wings folded back Cristina looked too, seeing that a dark haired man wearing a suit, blue tie and a trenchcoat had intervened. Whoever he was and how he had got into her apartment, she had no idea, but she was pretty sure there was nothing more that could surprise her at this point.

"Simael, you can't take her with you unless she agrees," the man said firmly, his voice low and raspy. "And she doesn't."

"Castiel…" the angel responded, sounding almost disappointed, but there was a definite note of warning in his tone. "You've already interfered enough in too many things. Please, let this one be. Things will play out as they're supposed to, for once."

The other man's eyes flashed, and Cristina just stared aghast at the pair of them, having no idea what was going on. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened, Simael, but too many things have been changed already. This wedding can't be allowed to happen. I don't want to be the cause of any more bloodshed, but if you try and force her to go with you, I'll do whatever it takes to stop you."

Simael's gaze darted about the space behind Castiel, as if expecting someone else to appear at any moment. "You think _you'll_ stop me, Castiel? You and your pets? The rest of Heaven isn't on your side this time, so please brother, stand down."

Castiel looked at him regretfully, but then shook his head. "I can't."

Whatever happened next was all just a blur to Cristina. The first angel suddenly moved swiftly, launching an attack at Castiel to try and throw him backwards, but he dodged out of the way and thrust a hand into his trenchcoat, before producing a long silver blade. He counter attacked with a punch that landed with far more ferocity than Cristina had even thought possible, and Simael was knocked sideways, crashing into furniture and causing sparks to fly as the wires on the television and Hi-Fi were pulled and broken. Cristina cried out in shock, turning to stare wide eyed in fear at the man who was now holding up the sword defensively.

He glanced at her, his blue eyes meeting her brown ones, before he spoke just one word. "Run."

Although she had no idea who he was or what was even going on, she didn't need telling twice.


	3. Fight

**A/N: Sorry this took a while. This is actually only half the chapter I intended to post, but I've been overwhelmed with way more stuff to do this month than expected, so I didn't manage to reach the point in the story that I wanted to with this. However, I decided it was enough to post on its own, because I don't know when I'll manage to get another chapter finished. I'm really, really busy at the moment, although I'd hoped to get this up before the last couple of episodes aired, which didn't happen. So, in light of recent episodes, this story offers a divergent take of how Cas comes to be no longer under Naomi's control, but the angel tablet is still of great importance.**

**Since these**** first couple of chapters are set in Boston, I'd like to say my thoughts are with the victims of the bombing ****and their families**.

_**Chapter Two – Fight**_

Cristina darted up off the couch and away from the two angels just as Simael recovered and began a counter-assault on Castiel, but she didn't pay much attention to the detail of the fight. There was a pile of clothes lying on the floor – which may have been the laundry or can-be-worn-again-at-a-stretch pile – but she didn't care to discern that as she snatched up a pair of jeans and pulled them on hastily, tripping over them in her panicked rush. She swore as she ended up tumbling to the floor, hearing more crashes and seeing the flutter of wings as the angels fought, but then she quickly picked herself up and headed for the door. A pair of muddy army boots were on the floor beside it, which she thrust her feet into urgently, not bothering to lace them up or stop to pick up anything else as she ran out of her apartment door and down the hall.

Bolting down the stairs, her mind raced even faster than her feet as she tried to work out what was going on. If this was really happening, she wondered if her neighbors had heard the fighting and they'd go to find out what was the disturbance, then she'd have some confirmation she wasn't crazy or dreaming. However, she was two storeys down by now, and she had no intention of going back upstairs again to see what other people were doing. All she cared about right now was getting as far away from here as possible.

The moment she hit the ground floor she shot straight towards the exit, relief washing over her as she pushed the door open and escaped into the night air. Once there though, she wasn't sure what she should even do now. Call for help? Keep running? But to where? Instinctively, her right hand went to her jeans pocket, reaching for her phone, but then she realised it wasn't even there and must still be laying on the dresser in her bedroom. Calling 911 was out of the question then, although she didn't know what she thought she would have told the operator anyway._ "Hello? Yes, I need help. Two angels are having a fight in my living room."_ That probably wouldn't have done much good.

Her feet picked up pace again, running in the general _away _direction as she considered trying to get to a friend's house for help, but as she reached the street corner and rounded it to take a shortcut towards the harbor, she felt someone grab her waist from behind and a hand clamped over her mouth. A muffled scream escaped her as she tried to fight back and get away, a new rush of panic setting in, but whoever it was, they were tall and strong enough to lift her off the ground as she was carried backwards. Her struggling was futile as she found herself pulled into the alley down the side of the apartment block, where the light from the streetlamps barely reached enough for her to see her surroundings.

She thought she wanted to cry, wondering how many more bad things could happen to her in one night, but even as she was pulled into the darkness, she heard someone muttering to her. "Hey, hey, shh. It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you, but you need to get out of sight."

Even more confusion settled on her, but then she found herself being set back down and the hand removed from her mouth. She was still scared enough to consider trying to run again, but it was quickly replaced by another hand on her shoulder, not gripping tight, but firm enough to ensure she didn't bolt for it. Still in shock, she found herself being turned round to look up into the face of a man who was unusually tall, with long hair that appeared to be dark brown in the dim light. "You're Cristina, right?" he asked her urgently.

She was still struggling to make sense of any of this, but the only word that left her mouth was the instinctive answer of, "Yeah."

"Ok, Cristina, I'm Sam. I'm guessing you've already noticed this, but there's people after you and I'm here to help you escape."

Having had a moment to collect herself, all the confusion and fear she was feeling suddenly came rushing out in a barrage of questions. "What the hell? Help me escape what? I mean, who are you? What's after me? And what the fuck is going on?"

He gave her a sympathetic look, as if trying to calm her down. "Look, I know this sounds crazy and probably makes no sense, but you're being hunted by angels, okay? I promise I'll explain everything, but we need to get out of here first."

She was more than ready to come back at him with an exclamation of "You're insane," although she knew that after what she'd just seen that probably wasn't the case, but before she had chance to say anything she heard someone else calling out.

"Sam!"

The voice sounded from the opposite end of the alley. Sam turned his head to look, as did Cristina, who was able to make out a dim shape in the darkness. There was another man, a little shorter than the first, with shorter hair and wearing a dark colored jacket. Cristina also noted that he appeared to be carrying some kind of weapon in his hand, like a slender, straight kind of knife or short sword or something, and she swallowed.

"You found her?" the man called out as he approached.

"Yeah," Sam answered, then looked at Cristina. "This is my brother, Dean. He's gonna help us get away."

"Yeah, help me…right…" she muttered nervously, her eyes flickering to the blade Dean held. In the darkness, she couldn't really see his face, but she thought she saw him glance in her direction briefly, then he looked up at the side of the apartment block and let out a shout of frustration.

"Dammit! How did they get here before us? It's like they knew we were coming."

Almost as if in answer, there came the sounds of more crashes from several storeys up, and lights could be seen to flicker on in windows up the side of the building as shouts were heard from inside.

Sam spoke urgently again. "I don't know, Dean, but we can worry about that later. People are starting to notice what's happening; we've got to go now."

After just the briefest hesitation, Dean nodded. "Alright, you get her out of here. I'll go help Cas."

He raised the sword and began to run for the stairs to the fire escape that led to the upper storeys, as if intending to go and join the fight, but Sam suddenly darted forward and gripped his arm. "Whoa, Dean, wait. You can't go up there."

With his attention no longer on her, Cristina inched away, wondering if she should take the opportunity to run again. She'd had no intention of going with Simael anywhere, and she didn't much want to go anywhere with these two quite frankly _dangerous _seeming guys either, but what if they really could help her escape the angels? Or what if it would only end up being just as bad either way? She wasn't sure at all. Did she risk running for it, or not? Her indecision rendered her stationary.

Dean turned to look at Sam. "They'll have called in the cavalry by now, Sam. Cas can't fight them all off on his own."

"And what help do you think you could be to him, Dean? You've got an angel blade, but you're still human. Cas can handle himself. It'll only be harder for him if he has to worry about protecting you as well."

A conflicted expression crossed Dean's face, but as he accepted the logic of what Sam said, he backed away from the stairwell. "Dammit! Where's Lydia?" he snapped. "I said we shouldn't trust her, Sam. She should be up there helping him, but what if she just led Cas here so her angel pals could take a free shot at him?"

The answer came from somewhere behind him. "I'm right here, Dean."

The sound of a new voice speaking took Cristina by surprise and she jumped, as did Dean as he whirled round to see who it was. From the shadows behind him, Cristina saw the figure of a woman emerge. She was tall, perhaps a couple of inches taller than Cristina's 5'7", and had short hair in a pixie cut, which was clearly a golden color even in the dim light. She had her gaze fixed on Dean, but her face was completely expressionless, and even more disconcertingly, she'd appeared without warning. Even though it was dark and hard to see, Cristina still felt as if the woman had literally appeared from nowhere.

"I told you you could trust me," she said calmly, her voice a clear soprano. "I didn't get him out of Heaven just to let them get their hands on him now. Now get the Bride out of here. I will help Castiel." Before either of them had chance to reply, she then stepped back into the shadows and…vanished.

Cristina blinked a few times, sure that she must be seeing things or that it was just a trick of the darkness, but as she tried harder to focus the more she was certain that the woman had simply gone. Not retreated back down the alley or walked away, just disappeared. But that couldn't be right, could it? What the Hell was going on?

Cristina was still contemplating that as Sam turned back to her, and as her opportunity to escape passed, she began to regret not taking it.

"Alright, come with us. We've got to go."

For a second she hesitated, then decided she wasn't so happy to go along with them after all. She quickly turned and tried to run back towards the alley entrance as fast as she could, still not having a plan but hoping to get to the police or something. However, barely two seconds later Sam's arms were round her waist again as he lifted her up and pulled her back. She cursed herself for being so damn short and slow, or rather, him for being so freakishly tall and fast.

Less passive this time, she tried kicking at his shins. "Let go of me!" she shouted out. "If you don't, I'll scream!"

He didn't let go immediately, but as Sam spun her round and planted her back on the ground, she found herself facing Dean, who was the one to deal the rebuke. "You can go ahead and scream, but right now, I think everyone's paying attention to the angel showdown going on in your apartment," he said gruffly, "Which is just as well, because you don't want anyone knowing where you are. I get that this is scary for you, but if the angels find you, things are gonna get a hell of a lot worse. You've got to trust us."

She looked up at him and licked her dry lips. Closer now, she could see him better, and noticed the way the shadows falling on his face emphasised his expression of anxiety. She still didn't understand what was going on, but despite everything, she got the sense that he had no malicious intent towards her. "Why should I?" she challenged uncertainly.

"I've got no good answer to that, except it's them or us. I'm pretty sure you don't wanna go with them, but if you try escaping on your own, you won't get very far."

"I could try."

He gave an exasperated grimace, looking desperate to end the conversation. "Yeah, you could. And if you really wanna risk that, then go ahead. It's your choice."

_Well, that's better than what Simael offered me, _she found herself thinking, but a split second later there was the sound of something shattering, and the three of them found themselves shielding their heads as a rain of broken glass poured down on them from a broken window several storeys up. Cristina didn't dare glance upwards, but there was a sudden flash of light above them, and she thought she heard screaming from somewhere.

Terrified again, she didn't think she had the courage to try running on her own. "Alright, just get me the hell out of here!" she yelled instead, but Sam was already dragging her down the alley in the opposite direction from which they'd entered. They exited onto a street lined with several parked up cars, and she found herself being pulled in the direction of one that was black and old looking in the classic car kind of sense. "Get in!" Sam instructed, pulling the door open for her, and she fell roughly into the back seat in her haste.

He slammed the door behind her then crossed round the car to climb in the passenger side, but Dean had paused with his hand on the door handle and seemed to be looking back in the direction of the alley.

"Dean!" Sam called out, and at his brother's voice Dean quickly pulled the door open and climbed in, putting the keys in the ignition. However, Cristina noticed that even as the engine revved up, he was still peering back towards the alley with a worried look on his face. Cristina glanced back to see what he was looking at. There was nothing really to see, although Cristina assumed that some kind of angel fight or whatever was going on around the corner, and by now she could hear police sirens in the distance. However, Dean had hesitated as he appeared to be looking for something, and seemed concerned that he couldn't see it.

Realising their need to move quickly, Sam tried to prompt him again. "Dean, drive!"

Snapping his head back round without a word, Dean put his foot to the accelerator.

**A/N: A lot of the explanations I intended to provide have been cut short, so I'll have to get round to them next chapter. There's quite a lot that needs explaining regarding Cas' situation and why the angels are interested in Cristina, and there's a reason Cas can't just angel poof her out of there, so if you don't understand it yet, thanks in advance for your patience.**


	4. Flight

**A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed. I didn't get as far as I intended again this time, but that's because this part of the plot took up more space than planned. I have managed to get a few more explanations in this chapter, but there's still some stuff I'm saving for later, so please bear with is also the first chapter I've typed and uploaded entirely on my phone, because I can't afford the wifi fees in this hotel, so apologies if there are more mistakes in this than usual.**

**Points this week are for anyone who figures out what t-shirt Cristina is wearing (first clue's in chapter one).**

_**Chapter Three – Flight**_

_**-  
**__"He will damage that here delays; Let him beware too light that weighs." _– The Chemical Wedding, Day One  
-

There was the screeching of tyres as Dean put his foot to the floor, trying to get the car moving as quickly as possible. It sped out of its parking spot and down the street, before Dean spun the wheel to turn left and join one of the larger roads that ran through Boston.

In the back, Cristina clenched her fists in fright at the reckless driving, still trying to wrap her head round what was happening. "Oh hell, am I being kidnapped?" she squeaked out quietly, realising that seemed to be the case.

The sound of police sirens was getting louder now, and she supposed the cops had been called to see to whatever commotion was happening at her apartment. Part of her hoped that they would come looking for her and the car would get intercepted, then they'd take her home and everything would turn out alright, but she knew that was unlikely. Whatever was going on here, she could tell it was much bigger than anything the police could solve.

The black car was still speeding as it rounded another corner in the direction of the harbor, taking it past Cristina's block again as Dean tried to navigate in the direction that led out of the city. As it did so, the blue flashing lights of a squadron of police cars came into view, and Sam put up a hand, "Dean, ease up."

Dean glanced at him but the car only slowed down slightly. "We need to get out of here quickly, Sam," he retaliated with a sense of urgency.

"And that won't happen if you get the cops' attention," Sam explained. "Just...try and drive normally, for once."

Taking his brother's point, Dean braked rather hard, and instead began to ease the car more steadily forwards. He was still intent on taking this route, but as he drove onwards, it seemed that the rest of the traffic in this area was being held up or diverted while the force cars formed a blockade. As he figured out what was going on, Dean looked anxiously at the line ofpolice cars several yards in front of them. Assuming it was the angel melee that had escalated and attracted this attention, several streets from where it started, going that way wasn't a good idea.

"Dammit," Dean growled, looking behind him in search of another way he could take the car. Fortunately, this wasn't the busiest of roads and there wasn't much traffic around them, but his unfamiliarity with the city rendered him lost when his intended escape route had been blocked off.

"We can go back the way we came," Sam said, trying to keep his cool. "Just reverse out of the street; there'll be another way to get to the highway."

"Yeah, but we have to get there quickly. We can't risk getting lost in the city." Dean had a look of deep concentration on his face as he tried to figure out and recall directions, but Cristina was more concerned with what was happening in front of them. She squinted at the cop cars, trying to see what was going on. If this was to do with the fight at her apartment, she wanted to know how it ended, or at least properly see _what _it was that was fighting.

A moment later, however, she regretted thinking that. A flash of white light suddenly erupted in the sky above them, and Cristina thought she saw the silhouettes of wings flicker in the clouds as it was accompanied by a rumbling clap of thunder.

Dean swore, realising what that signified. They had to get moving. Urgently, he slammed the car into reverse then handbrake turned it round to face the other direction with a screech of the tyres, and the car sped off again.

"Alright, how the fuck do I get out of here?" he exclaimed angrily to the world in general. He was frowning at the maze of streets in front of him, clearly unfamiliar with the city's layout and looking lost and frustrated, and then decided to just take a guess and took the next turn on the left. The result was they found themselves speeding down a short street terminating in a T-junction.

"Right!" Cristina shouted, sounding panicked.

Startled by her sudden contribution, Dean glanced momentarily back at her. "What?"

"Next right," she repeated. "Unless you want to end up like a crate of tea, go right at the end of the street!" He swung the car round the corner as she instructed, and Cristina seemed to let out a sigh of relief. "Harbor's on the left, highway's this way, if you just keep going."

It took her a moment or two after saying that to realise she'd just given them directions to the highway. _Am I enabling my kidnappers now? _She didn't have much time to dwell on that, however, before the light appeared again, this time seemingly directly above them, and a high pitched ringing sounded in her ears. It quickly grew so intense it hurt, and Cristina clapped her hands to her ears with a cry of pain as blood began to pool in her left ear. She felt the car begin to move even faster, as Dean stepped on it even harder to try and get away.

The noise lasted for several more seconds, so loud that Cristina thought her head might explode, but then it stuttered, dropping in pitch, and the light above them flickered and dimmed. All three people in the car chanced to look behind them for a second, and through the back window Cristina thought she saw more strange silhouettes flash against the clouds like lightning, receding into the distance. _What the hell was that? _Sceptical as she was, after everything that had happened tonight, Cristina thought she knew the answer. Raindrops were beginning to fall on the windows, and Cristina began to wonder if all thunderstorms were just angels fighting in Heaven.

Turning back round and breathing heavily, she caught sight of Dean looking at her in the rear view mirror. "You alright back there?" he asked, and she was surprised by how concerned he sounded.

That, however, wasn't enough to ease the confusion and terror that had gripped her. Although she wanted to scream at him that no, she wasn't alright, all she could manage was a small nod. He didn't respond to that except to nod back, and then turned his attention back to the road, focussed on getting them out of there now that the light and police sirens had faded.

None of them said another word until they'd left the city and merged with the highway, so that Dean's chaotic driving had settled into something more suitable for the five lanes of traffic they were now driving amongst.

With Cristina still silent in the back, Dean turned to Sam to ask him something quietly. "Can you try calling Cas? Make sure he got out okay?"

Sam took out his phone and tried making a call, but ended up just shaking his head and muttering, "No answer yet, Dean, but I'm sure he's fine. He'll check in when he can."

A look of anxiety crossed Dean's face and he swore under his breath, but said no more.

As she watched the interaction, Cristina got chance to study their faces better, or at least the view she could get from the back seat. Sam's right ear appeared to be bleeding slightly from the screeching noise earlier, although Dean seemed okay. However, there was something else bothering her about their appearances. A sense of familiarity was niggling at her, as if she recognised them from somewhere, but couldn't place it. She did know, however, that they scared her. Again, she found herself wishing she'd had chance to pick up her phone, then maybe she could at least try to call for help.

After a short while and feeling more assured that they'd gotten away successfully, Sam turned round to check on the girl who was audibly hyperventilating in the back. "Cristina, you okay?"

"'Okay's a relative term," she replied shakily, clearly indicating the answer was 'no'.

Sam looked at her in concern. "We're not gonna hurt you, Cristina," he said, trying to sound reassuring.

"No, but you did just kidnap me though," she snapped back, obviously not comforted and still very scared.

Sam glanced down, feeling bad that actually that was pretty much what they were doing, but Dean answered while keeping his eyes on the road.

"Sorry about that, sweetheart, but if it wasn't us, it'd be the angels, and believe me that would be worse. I know this whole thing sucks, but I promise we're trying to help you."

"Yeah?" Cristina remarked, her temper rising as she tried to get a hold on her fear. "So why don't you start with a fucking explanation?"

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, realising they did actually owe her that and wondering which of them was going to have to try and explain the whole complicated thing to her. As Dean was busy driving, Sam realised it was probably him. "Well," he began a little uncertainly, "We don't understand the exact details of it ourselves, but the thing is Cristina, you're important. Heaven has some kind of plan involving you. This is the Cliff's notes version here, but basically you're the descendant of a Prophet of the Lord from the Middle Ages, which makes you the intended Bride at the Chemical Wedding."

She gave him a frustrated stare. "And what the fuck does that even _mean_?"

"It means you've got a bunch of feathery sons of bitches on your ass," Dean inputted, "Because Heaven wants you to marry one of their own and create some kind of celestial union between Heaven and Earth or something, which is supposed to stop us from ever closing the Gates of Heaven."

For the second time that night, Cristina found herself confronted with the notion that she was supposed to marry, and again she was quick to respond in horror. "Whoa, wait. I'm not marrying anyone!"

"We don't want you to either," Sam replied, "That's why we're helping you get away..." but she wasn't ready to listen to him be reasonable. Instead, she was rambling giddily as all her thus far restrained panic and fear came pouring out.

"And that doesn't even make sense," she blurted out, "Even assuming I'm suspending all my disbelief for a moment, and overlooking all the other crazy stuff, why do you _want _to close the Gates of Heaven? Isn't Heaven supposed to be a good place?"

"Supposed to be, but you've met a couple of angels for yourself now," Dean answered as she stopped for breath, "Are they the kinds of people you'd want just walking round Earth and manipulating things however they like?"

She scowled back at him as he glanced at her in the rear view mirror. "Given they've never bothered me before today, I think I could have lived with that."

Realising Dean's approach wasn't making her feel any better, Sam took over again. "Look, I know how confusing this whole thing must be for you, but trust us, the angels don't have good plans. This Wedding was only ever meant to happen in the event of the Apocalypse, to rebuild the world afterwards and lead everyone to Paradise, but the Apocalypse never happened. We stopped it, so now if the Wedding goes ahead, it's going to do more harm than good. Now we just have to get you some place safe and stop them finding you before we can finish closing the Gates of Heaven."

There was silence for a few moments as he was met with Cristina's bewildered stare, while she tried to make sense of what he was saying. Eventually, she asked disbelievingly, "Did you just try and tell me _you two _stopped the Apocalypse?"

Unsure how to respond to her scepticism, Sam just said, "Um...yeah, we did."

She stared at him blankly for a couple more seconds then shook her head. "What the hell, man? You're both crazy."

At that, Dean decided to speak up again, "Sweetheart, I know this must be a hell of a lot for you to take in, but-"

"Will you quit calling me 'sweetheart'?" she suddenly snapped at him. "If you're going to kidnap me could you perhaps be more polite about it? If I'm so special then why don't you call me 'Miss Rosenkreuz' or something?"

Dean was silenced for a moment, but looked a little amused by that response. It seemed that giddiness and getting mad at things was her way of coping with the situation. "Well, you're being kidnapped in 1967 Chevy Impala, if style counts for anything?" he said, trying to lighten the mood and put her more at ease, but it didn:t seem to work.

She glared at the back of his head. "No, I can't say that it-" she began to remark, but her comment quickly turned into a startled squeal as someone _literally _materialised out of nowhere on the seat beside her.

She quickly scrambled over to press herself against the door, staring in confused terror at the newcomer. _How the fuck...? _ To her further surprise, it was the man she'd seen earlier in her apartment - the one with the trenchcoat who'd told her to run, and she found herself growing even more bewildered.

His sudden appearance seemed to startle Dean as well, and the car swerved slightly as Dean caught sight of him in the rear view mirror. However, regaining control, Dean then asked immediately, "Cas, what happened? You okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean," the man replied calmly, his voice low and coarse. "We held them off, and Lydia is leading them on a false trail where they think they will catch up with you. Is the Bride safe?"

Before either Sam or Dean had chance to answer, Cristina had blurted out, "Dude, I'm right here, and no I don't feel particularly safe." As he turned his attention to her, she wished that she'd managed to control her panicked impulse and kept quiet, but his gaze was calm and curious.

"Don't worry, Sam and Dean are excellent hunters. They are more than capable of protecting you from Heaven," he said, apparently trying to be reassuring, but it just confused her further.

"What...?" she began, but realising how perplexed she was, Sam intervened.

"Cristina, this is Cas. He's an angel, but he's on our side."

She gaped at him. "What, so there's such thing as good angels now? Make your mind up."

"Don't get me wrong, ninety percent of the angels we've met are dicks," Dean replied, "But Cas is something of a rebel. He's helping us."

"Him and an angel called Lydia," Sam elaborated., "You saw her in the alleyway. She used to be in charge of a group of angels called the Party, who were responsible for organising the Wedding, but since the Apocalypse didn't go ahead as planned she believes the Wedding shouldn't either. Unfortunately, the others didn't agree, so she rebelled on her own. Now she's helping us out."

This was too much for Cristina to wrap her head around. Especially at the moment, as she was too distracted by the supposed angel sitting right next to her. She thought he looked more like an accountant than an angel, compared to the winged trumpeter she'd met earlier. "Right," she eventually muttered, overwhelmed.

"I can't stay long," Cas continued, "If the Party notice I've gone missing, they'll realise it's a decoy. I have to get back to Lydia soon to head them off, but I need to ensure they cannot find Cristina any other way."

Without warning, he then reached out to touch Cristina's shoulder. She was just beginning to shout, "Hey!" in protest, but it turned into an "Ow!" as a mild pang of pain shot through her chest. Then Cas withdrew his hand, and she scowled at him angrily. "The fuck was that?"

"I've engraved Enochian cloaking symbols on your ribs," he explained calmly, and her already wide eyes grew wider. "They'll prevent any angel from finding you, including me. Dean, if you need to contact me you'll have to use the cell phone," he finished, no longer addressing her.

"I know, Cas," Dean replied, in a tone of somebody who'd already said the same thing several times before, but was being patient nonetheless.

"I must get back," Cas said again, "I will try and make contact once we have completed the diversion." And then, just as suddenly as he'd appeared, he was gone, accompanied by the sound of what seemed to Cristina like quietly fluttering wings.

She just gawped at the recently vacated space where he'd been for a moment, then said, "_That's _the guy who's helping you?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. "I know his behavior may seem a little..._off _to you, maybe, but we can trust him."

Cristina grimaced, putting a hand to her ribs. "Well, I'd have appreciated a little warning before he did that."

"Sorry," Sam replied on Cas's behalf, "He's not great at dealing with people, but he means well. If it makes you feel better, we have the Enochian sigils too. It's the second time we've had them, actually. He'll remove them again once we're sure the danger's passed."

Cristina was still frowning discontentedly, trying very hard to keep up with all this but finding it a struggle. "Alright," she muttered, "Although you still owe me explanations on a lot of things. Why am I so special? Who the hell are you people? And what is this 'Chemical Wedding' people keep talking about?"

It was Dean who answered. "Honestly, the best person who can explain it all is Cas," he said, "Which he will. And Sam and I will try to tell you what we know, but first we need to get you to safety."

Dissatisfied, but perhaps marginally calmer now, Cristina scowled. "So can't you at least say where you're taking me?"

"We have a safe place in Kansas. It's a twenty four hour drive, but you're cloaked from the angels now, so it should be safe enough for us to break it up and stop at a motel tonight. We'll get there some time tomorrow."

That seemed like more bad news to Cristina, but she was helpless to do anything. Instead, she just sank back in her seat and let that sink in. So here she was, being kidnapped and dragged half way across the country by two guys who she didn't know if she could trust, at the same time being unsure if she could or even should escape, while creatures she hadn't thought existed were on her tail and she had no means of contacting anyone for help. Just great. Although it wasn't as if she had a clue what kind of help anyone could offer her in a situation like this. In a matter of a couple of hours, everything she thought she understood about the universe had been completely flipped on its head.

As Cristina contemplated that, she found herself staring down at her t-shirt, and it registered with her that the picture on it was that of an angel, _of all possible things. _She scowled at it, thinking that if she ever somehow got out of this and managed to get back home, this wasn't a shirt she would be wearing ever again.


End file.
